Ginny

Ginny – 1996 to December 2009

We lost a friend today!

I first met Ginny when Stella brought her back from Fen Bank to try to fill the void left by our lovely Lady, who we’d recently lost. I saw two big brown eyes, set in a light brown head – the prettiest Greyhound I’d ever seen. Love at first sight!

She came to join Daisy, a successful racer- who’d been well looked after and gracefully retired- and Claude, who was meek and somewhat withdrawn.  Whereas Daisy brought tranquillity and confidence to the house and Claude brought meekness and timidity, Ginny brought mayhem!

Anything that was small, fluffy, and moved was fair game and, although I don’t recall her actually catching anything, even jackdaws and seagulls were fair targets. Dogs and their walkers passing the front room window were subjected to a continuous stream of Ginny’s verbal abuse.

After Daisy and Claude passed on, we got Ben, one of the most laid-back Greyhounds I’d ever seen, followed by Russ, whose stay was all too short, but whose massive “in your face”  personality was big enough to fill Wembley Stadium and the Albert Hall, with some left over. Ginny treated them both to her personal management style and continued to keep order.

Like a good wine, however, she mellowed a bit with age. The barking through the window was less energetic and, outside, other dogs were greeted, not with a full verbal assault, but with quiet grumble which almost sounded like “bloody kids!”

As she approached her 14th birthday there was a change. Her kidneys were not working, her back legs struggled to get her up in the morning and she did not attack the food bowl with the energy of earlier years. The morning walk was more chore, less chase.

A couple of days ago, two boisterous dogs passed the window. To my surprise Ginny ignored them,

“What’s up, Ginny girl “, I said . The look came back that every owner dreads.

“I’ve had enough, Dad” it said, “it’s time for me to go”.

So we said “goodbye” to Ginny today.

Well, not goodbye, exactly. After all, the love, devotion and bond that existed between us will be with me for the rest of my life and when it’s my turn to cross the Rainbow bridge I expect she’ll be there, with all the other dogs we’ve had lined up, in rank and file order, and a look in her eye which says “OK, got that lot sorted, now what?”

So I guess it’s not really “goodbye”, more like “Au revoir, Ginny girl. Sleep well ‘till then. We’ll miss you”.

Gerald and Stella Pullum